Harry Potter drabbles
by Lenidrabbles
Summary: More often than not it'll be Triofics, DracoGinny and HarryHermione.


_Written for hp100 at LJ_

**Title:** Mad Race  
**House:** Slytherin  
**Word Count:** 7x100.  
**Characters/Pairings:** Ginny, Draco. Ginny/Draco, past Ginny/Harry.  
**Author's Notes:** Dark. Character Death.

The church's bells ended their mournful song. The last attendants scurried back into their refuges.

_a flash of silver_

Ginny began her slow walk to Hermione's parents, a new family being born where everybody else was missing.

_the ghost of green_

Suddenly she understood. Even after she'd lost everything else, they'd rob her peace, too. She'd swallowed the nervous laugh, looked around with eyes that begged for help, for protection, for reassurance. But the Grangers were only human, their grief too raw to deal with consequences.

Ginny was alone, so alone she ran, still seeing the silvergreen trailing after her.

---

She was supposed to be easy prey. Having just buried two parents, five brothers and so many friends, the last Weasley wasn't meant to be a challenge. Yet she was.

He was supposed to snatch her into darkness, weaken her until she understood that oblivion was her freedom. But she wouldn't be persuaded, and a young Malfoy wasn't supposed to admire that.

It didn't matter. She was too fast; he missed by too little. In-between lay, solitary, all the dreams of catching her, all the secrets he'd confess. While, one step ahead, she constantly teased a brush against his fingertips.

---

Why they'd trace her, she didn't know. She was nothing. One lost little girl, all alone in wartime. Nobody would die for her, no secret hid in her hands. Why would their youngest potential persist in this insane race?

This made no sense, and that terrified her. And if Malfoy ever trapped her... Father gone, mother gone, Harry gone, would anyone ever miss her?

Only herself.

That was why she ran. To keep that sliver of self alive, for the hope that it'd be nurtured. One day. Far away. In a land where she didn't hear his steps after hers.

---

Why he still followed her, Draco didn't know. It had been his choice, once upon a time, though now it tasted like ingrained habits and rough need. Need, for her, for the secret she held, for the reason why he chased and missed and chased a once shy teenager, once the enemy's beloved, once the girl standing at her family's grave.

It made no sense, but he continued. Tried to tempt her, but she wouldn't yield. Tried to show her, but she wouldn't see. She, the loneliest one, the most fragile of his missions, was the will he couldn't break.

---

She missed Harry's voice against her shoulder, his words running against her skin as if chasing each other.

Chasing. Not Harry.

She tried to remember what Harry's smile looked like. A small lift of his lips, as if his ability to truly laugh had left with his innocence. But when he did, it was heaven, the sound following her for days.

Following. Not Harry.

She still dreamt with Harry, the times they'd had picnics outside, the memory of them against the greenest grass.

Greens. Not Harry. Not Harry. Never Harry. And sometimes she wondered when she'd stopped being that Ginny.

---

He watched her again. The scene was the exact memory of last time. She knelt on the grass again, mouthed the names as she traced them on stone. She mirrored her past actions, yet everything else was different. Now she was all he could see.

A year and an anniversary she shouldn't have to remember. Back at the cemetery where everything had begun. The place was so similar, yet she couldn't find herself anymore. She'd lost a little to him in this mad race, and she missed that piece, wanted it back.

She stood up, resolution made, and faced him.

---

"I know you're there."

He stepped forward, his usual smile missing.

Tiredly: "I won't go with you. Ever."

"It's your onl---"

"Forget it." And she stepped away, intent of beginning again.

"Wait." Pause. "I'll... I'll go with you."

"Why?" she asked, and tried to remember if that light in his eyes meant the truth or the lie.

"Because."

Not nearly enough. "Why?" she insisted.

Resigned: "You."

Truth, she decided, gambling her entire life with that choice. Sanity was overrated, and a year running was more than she could handle. She held out her hand, and he finally caught her.


End file.
